Monday, May 4, 2009

Visited the folks' house this weekend to slither into the attic and start collecting some supplies for the 2009 display. Brought home a bunch of stuff to get started on. After all these years, I realize that I associate a large part of Halloween with the dusty smell of an attic. Back in the days of my youth when I still lived at home, I can remember times my brother and I talked about putting some sleeping bags up there and spending the night in the cramped space of the attic. Not sure if our parents shot down the idea or if we just chickened out, but we never did it. The insulation fibers in my lungs probably would have been a neat sensation come morning. Or the nails poking through from the roofing would have done a number on my skull in the event I woke up and forgot where I was and sprung up too fast. And then there's the creepy darkness. That's probably what did it for us. Why we didn't camp out up there. Not even once.

A line from Ray Bradbury's poem In-Between goes: "Attics are awful and lovely." And I agree.

Going to be working these coming weeks like a fiend on the Corn Witch display. The Witches will get a make-over. Other props will be created, so there will be a lot of additions and surprises. Two creatures I'm going to get started on will be The Pumpkin Sentinels. They're going to be at the base of the walk to greet anyone that's brave enough to make the long walk to the porch for candy. And it's going to be a VERY long walk this year. I promise.

My parents live in a section of my hometown dubbed "Machine Shop Village". It was housing for employees of a nearby mill that made textile machinery. The houses in the area date back to about the mid-19th century. Directly above my old bedroom is an attic room that had been walled off at one time but later reopened. To get to it, you have to dangle precariously over the attic stairs to climb through a rough opening in the old wooden planks. A little tricky, but worth it for the scraps of old newspapers and other treasures we would find up there.

I still get goosebumps. The places that attic would take my imagination. Not all good, I must admit.